


in the darkness

by scorpiod



Category: Hell Fest (2018)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/pseuds/scorpiod
Summary: It's been a few months. Life goes on. Brooke and Natalie have each other.Maybe that's all they need.
Relationships: Natalie (Hell Fest)/Brooke (Hell Fest)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriousmonsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousmonsters/gifts).



> I really liked your prompts and your likes list, especially about not clearly defined yet intense emotional relationships between people. I tried to work some of that in. I hope you enjoy this little treat and happy yuletide!

Brooke has nightmares. Not the loud screaming ones you see in the movies but quieter, whimpering ones that drag her awake. In the soft darkness of her room, Brooke wakes up and sobs, the sound muffled into her pillow, trying desperately not to bleed on anyone. 

Natalie is next to her, sharing the same bed, same space--Natalie has her own dorm but since Halloween, she can't stomach to go back to it. _Brooke needs me_ , she tells herself but that's not the whole truth here.

Sometimes, Natalie doesn't move, or say anything, listening to her friend cry, to her friend trying her best to hide it from her, as if it was of vital importance to not wake Natalie (as if Natalie weren’t already awake, staring at the wall next to her, back to back with Brooke, reverse parentheses). It was some kind of magical thinking, Natalie knew, not based on any reality or logic; like pulling closer would disturb whatever tentative unspoken peace there is between them. _We're okay, we're okay now_ they tell everyone; most of all each other. 

If Natalie doesn't acknowledge her crying, they can all pretend to be okay in the morning. Brooke will hand coffee at breakfast, fresh made; _how did you sleep?_

_Just fine, thank you. I hope you slept well._

They can both pretend to be normal people, and smile wide at each other, with bright shiny teeth. Brittle and hard. 

But Brooke is crying now and Natelie turns herself around, curling herself in their blankets together. She puts an arm around Brooke, against her stomach and pulls her close, tight against Natalie's chest, pressing her face and mouth where her spine meets neck. 

She does not say, _I'm here for you, I got you_ , and Brooke continues to cry. 

But Natalie doesn't need to say anything. Eventually her cries stop. Eventually her breathing steadies and mellows out, and Natalie is able to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, the tender slow beat of her heart. 

Ever since Halloween, neither of them get much rest; they take what they can get.

***

It's been two months. December has brought a chill to the air, and Christmas passes in quiet, melancholy repose. Brooke and Natalie go their separate ways, back to their families, for the winter break. Back to normalcy, or some shred of it.

Feels like, they've both been trying to get back to normal ever since Hellfest, trying to carve it out from their lives, but it doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Natalie spends three weeks at home, telling everyone she's fine. And of course, no one believes her, but the thing is, everyone wants her to be fine. They want to believe she's okay, that she got out of Hellfest with just some bumps and scrapes. 

So when she says so, the cliched _I’m fine_ , her mom and dad don't pressure her for more. Her sister hugs her and calls her brave and strong. 

Later, Natalie throws up the turkey and brie from dinner. Too much food or alcohol, down her guilty squirming stomach. _Brave_ , her mom says, and Natalie thinks of a girl, no more than high school age, crying and shaking, as the Other searched Natalie's eyes, looking for permission, or an audience or just someone to share the kill with.

Natalie, laughing, shaking her head ruefully, thinking it's all some joke. 

One sick sad joke. 

Her phone buzzes at the end of Christmas Eve night, turning over into the day of-- _this place blows_.

The phone buzzes again and this time, Natalie gets a photo of Brooke wearing a cute little santa hat, and red dress; a bathroom selfie for her, Brooke with her eyes bloodshot and an exaggerated frown on her face. 

Natalie laughs, as she wipes her puke stained mouth. Washes her hands. 

_This holiday blows_ , she replies, which isn't true or at least, wasn't always true. Natalie used to love Christmas, all the bright lights and caroling voices and the warmth of family but right now, it felt removed from her, far away. Like Christmas cheer was reserved for people who didn't lose their friends and boyfriends to a serial killer, and Natalie couldn’t quite grasp it back.

She reaches into the dark, grasping for purchases. She gets an armful of crying best friend, or a blank faced killer, waiting for her move. 

The phone buzzes again. _Wish you were here_. Natalie's numbed out heart skips a beat. It shudders in her chest.

_I miss you_ , Natalie types and then doesn't send. The weight behind the words feels heavier now, and not quite right.

***

Hellfest is gone, leaving behind a shell of itself, a blown out skeleton of the scene of the crime. Closed until further notice. It doesn't seem right, to leave the scene of a crime like that, for anyone to pillage or pluck clean, until the evidence just disappeared or eroded away. Feels like a graveyard now. Less of a crime scene and more of a monument to a massacre, a macabre memorial.

All that's left is an abandoned lot now where the park used to stand, chain link fence wrapping around it. It's not that no one wants to come back. Plenty of people do. Freaks, disaster tourists, true crime affectionados with their video cameras for YouTube hits. Their dumb college town is famous now. 

It's just that it's haunted now. Ghosts and scars everywhere. Seems wrong, to reopen, and let the ghosts out. 

Sometimes, as if compelled by some eldritch force, Natalie comes to visit the husk of the location, peering through the holes in the chain link fence, peeking in. Like she could find on the other side something meaningful. A ghost. Her boyfriend. Their friends. 

The Other, looking back at her, looking for the one that got away, for another captive audience.

***

Sometimes, Natalie thinks she's not alone

And she doesn't mean Brooke, hovering at her side, slipping her hand into hers.

Sometimes, the hair on the neck prickles and she wonders if she's being watched. Wondering if the gust of wind besides her is something more, or if the guy across the quad staring in her direction is looking at her or behind her or through her. 

The problem is, the main thing is, he got away. 

And thus, he won't ever really go away. Brooke and Natalie can't escape him, no matter where they go, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for the chill down their spine to become a knife.

***

After winter break, Brooke and Natalie come back to each other. Quietly, Natalie starts to leave more of her clothes at Brooke’s place. A toothbrush for herself. An extra blanket and pillow. New towels for them both. She does the dishes for her, while Brooke does homework.

Natalie lies in bed, eyes closed, and not asleep. Covers pulled up over her like a childish sort of armor. As if a soft blanket could protect her. 

She feels Brooke slip next to her, the bed dipping and Natalie opens her eyes, turns around as Brooke wraps herself around her. Face to face now, sharing breath and each other's scents, dangerously intimate. 

"Hey," she gasps. "Hey, hey, what's up?" Brooke's deep brown eyes are golden in her lamp light. She doesn't say anything but her throat bobs. Brooke is trembling and Natalie reaches out, hand on her arm, skin to skin. 

Brooke leans in and kisses her lightly on the mouth. Natalie nearly sobs with it--the tenderness breaking her open. 

In the morning, Natalie doesn't ask questions, press for definitions. She lets the kiss sit here, with them both, and closes the space in between them. 

In the dark, that's all they need.


End file.
